


The Minstrel and the Centaur

by mandraco



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Does human/centaur sex count as bestiality?, Fairy tale-esque AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:11:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandraco/pseuds/mandraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Samuel has one last idea for getting out of a marriage arranged by his father. Unfortunately it requires getting help from a mythical creature he doesn't believe in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Minstrel and the Centaur

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I think I'm normal, and then I write things like this. Also, this would really be rated PG or PG-13, but I make you imagine Sam having sex with centaur!Gabriel. You're welcome.

"Are you sure about this?" Crown Prince Dean of Winchester asked his brother, Prince Samuel. The two princes were convening in the younger prince's study, far from the prying eyes of their household staff.

"It's the only way left," said Sam. "Even the King has to follow the Law of the Minstrel."

"Would it really be so horrible to marry Jess?" Prince Dean didn't understand his brother's hesitation in wedding the girl their father had chosen for him. Dean's own arranged marriage to Lady Lisa of Braeden would not look like anything less than a love match to an outsider. They fell for each other in the moment their eyes first met and had produced an heir almost sooner than wedlock. Sam would wager his last dime on the happy couple soon producing another.

With the monarchy's line thus assured, Sam had no further reason to wed. Alas, King John did not follow his son's reasoning. Sam's romantic proclivities did not lie in the realm of the fairer sex and despite repeated attempts to inform his father of this fact, King John refused to consider it anything more than an act of contrariness from a rebellious son.

"I can't," said Sam. "I'd never be happy. I _need_ to be the Minstrel."

"And how exactly are _you_ going to become the Minstrel, Sammy?" The lines of Prince Dean's brow crinkled. "You can't carry a tune."

"Are you going to tell me I suck at playing the violin, too?"

"Well, now that you mention it..." Prince Dean failed to complete his sentence upon perceiving his brother's sour expression. "Okay, I'll admit that you're good. But good isn't good enough. The Minstrel is supposed to command magic. I've never seen you come close in my life." Prince Dean wasn't mean-spirited and he didn't mean to dash his brother's hopes. He merely wanted his brother to comprehend the reality of the situation.

Prince Samuel was not disheartened. "That was with a regular violin. I have this one, now." Sam went to the corner of his room and withdrew an instrument from its case.

Prince Dean's mouth opened involuntarily. "Mom's?" The elder prince had not seen the instrument since his mother's passing. He had always suspected his father had ordered it destroyed, along with all other reminders of his beloved wife. Sam's music was the only remnant of their mother in the castle, allowed only by the King's inability to counteract his younger son's stubbornness. Perhaps that was a magic in itself.

"It's been in her family for generations. It's more than just a violin."

"Not to sound like a broken record," said the crown prince, "but I never heard her play magic with it either."

"It's the bow," explained Sam, holding his up in exhibition. "The original was lost and without it magic can't be played."

"So that's what this is about? You're going on a quest to find the missing bow?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that one's gone forever." Sam shook his head. "But I have the next best thing: the original maker's blueprints. I have everything I need to make a new one. Everything but centaur tail hair."

"Are you kidding me? You don't even believe centaurs exist."

"Maybe I didn't, but I do know someone who's seen one." Prince Samuel eyed his brother meaningfully.

"Dude, is that what this is about? You've been keeping a huge secret from me for months and I find out now because you suddenly believe I saw a centaur."

"I did some research--"

Prince Dean interrupted his brother. "Oh, wow. You still don't believe me. You had to go and look everything up for yourself. Nice. You really know how to make a brother feel loved."

"Oh come on, Dean. You didn't even believe it yourself. Not until Impala--"

"You leave my baby out of this. Do you want my help or not?"

"I'm sorry," said Samuel. "Yes, Dean, I would like your help."

"Then answer me one question. "Do you actually _want_ to be the Minstrel? Or is this just about getting Dad off your back?"

"Maybe at first it was all about not marrying Jess," said Sam. "She's great and all, but I'm never going to be happy married to her." Dean's inability to understand Sam's sexual inclinations stemmed more from a love of the feminine form than any lack of faith in his brother. Dean understood unhappiness, however, and would be willing to assist his brother on that principle alone. "But when I started reading about the Minstrels, and thinking about playing, I realised it's everything I want to be. How many times has Dad destroyed a violin of mine? And how many times have I been able to find another? I can't not play. I'm starting to think that maybe it's because I'm meant to."

King John had attempted to sway his younger son away from the violin with various means. Accidentally or deliberately, Sam had required (and acquired) a replacement instrument more times than Dean could remember. On the last occasion, when Sam had been fifteen, a loud noise had startled him into dropping his violin into the castle moat. Prince Samuel had calmly returned to his bedroom, and begun afresh with an instrument of his own making moments later. King John had had to accept his son's music at that point. Though Prince Samuel never noticed, Prince Dean thought their father actually enjoyed listening to Sam's music. It was only when he stopped playing that the King was swept into melancholy by a tide of remembrance.

"Then we leave tomorrow at dawn," Prince Dean declared.

"You know that's the one that means the day's starting, don't you? You actually intend to rise before the sun?"

"Shut up, bitch."

"Make me, jerk."

  
x x x

  
"Are you going to tell me what your top secret plan is now?" Prince Samuel asked his brother as they and their trusty steeds set out at daybreak toward the forest that neighboured the castle and the town.

"The centaur hates me," said Dean. "After the first time I saw him I spent weeks combing the forest for him, thinking I was going crazy. Thanks for that, by the way."

"You're welcome."

"Weeks, and weeks, and I probably did go crazy, but that doesn't mean the centaur isn't real. Then one day I get down to take a drink from the stream, and two seconds later I turn around and he's having a grand old time talking to Impala. He sees me looking at him, and he fucking winks at me before he runs off into the forest. He was a yard away and we never caught up to him."

Sam had heard the story before. This was the first time he was listening with the intent to meet the creature his brother described. All the texts mentioned it would be impossible to steal the required tail hair, and not even the blueprints recorded how the last hairs were obtained. Prince Samuel needed every scrap of intelligence he could glean from his brother's sightings.

"I see him every few weeks now," said Dean. "Whenever I'm not expecting him."

Prince Samuel's attention was drawn. "You never told me that."

Prince Dean's expression was severe. "You didn't believe me."

Privately, Prince Samuel vowed to put more stock in his brother's words. It was difficult, however, when so much of what the elder prince said was intended to mislead his brother.

Prince Dean's head lifted, eyes scanning the forest as he heard something Sam could not pinpoint. "What is it?" Prince Samuel asked.

"He's over there, the sneaky bastard. Come on!" Prince Dean kicked his horse into a gallop, disappearing into the forest.

  
x x x

  
Prince Samuel was lost. He'd lost track of both his brother and his position in the forest not long after Dean spied the centaur. Having spent more of his time devoted to music than pursuing game like his brother, Prince Samuel could only be glad that when he did lose sight of Dean, he hadn't been thrown from his horse, and his Dodge had not been lamed.

Heaving a sigh, Prince Samuel dismounted and tried to locate home through the shadows of the trees. Unable to tell anything with certainty, Prince Samuel turned the in the direction he'd come and began walking. With any luck, his brother would find him before evening. Prince Samuel only wished he'd gotten a glimpse of the centaur. He had no delusions of obtaining the appropriate tail hair in a single day, but to come so close to contact today was maddening.

Prince Samuel had no recollection of how far he'd walked when he was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice. "You're going the wrong way."

Prince Samuel turned quickly, his hand falling to the sword on his hip.

"You won't be needing that," the voice said.

Prince Samuel finally looked down and saw that which he had come to see. The first and only thought that came to mind after noting the centaur's gregarious face and tawny flank was that the centaur was much shorter than Sam expected. Indeed, the centaur's face barely reached Prince Samuel's shoulder. "You're short."

"Heaven save me from Winchester's princes." The centaur tossed his head and toed the ground just as any of the royal steeds would when irritated.

"Wait, sorry," Prince Samuel retracted his thoughtless statement. "I was just surprised. I've never seen a centaur before."

"I'll forgive you. I am, after all, a very fine specimen of a centaur."

"Very fine," Prince Samuel agreed without thought.

The centaur smirked. "How now, Prince Samuel. Flattery will get you everywhere."

Prince Samuel's cheeks flushed red. He wondered if flattery would get him what he wanted. The centaur seemed like a straightforward sort of character, so perhaps it would be best if Sam outright asked. "Will it get me two hundred of your tail hairs for my violin's bow?"

The centaur's eyes widened in surprise. "There's a request I haven't heard in years."

"Have you given up tail hairs before?" Prince Samuel was unable to contain his curiosity.

"Perhaps," said the centaur. "But this tail don't come cheap, y'know. What will you give me for it?"

"Whatever I can," said Prince Samuel.

"Hmm..." The centaur reached out and placed his hand on Sam's shoulder, caressing the muscle through the linen of his shirt. "You know what, I like you, Sammy. So I'm going to tell you a little secret, no payment required. I'm invulnerable. You could take that pretty sword of yours and slice it through my tail and not get a single hair."

"But you could give them to me, couldn't you?"

"Under the right circumstances."

"And what are those?" Prince Samuel was intrigued, almost more mesmerised by the thought of new knowledge than by the centaur's amber eyes.

"There are... moments, when I'm more vulnerable than others. The heat of the moment, some might say."

Sam's cheeks reddened further. "You want me to... uh..."

"Pop my cherry and you'll get what you want."

"You're a virgin?"

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"No! No, of course not."

"Well good. So get to the deflowering, and you'll get your centaur hair."

"Just like that?"

"I told you, Sammy. I like you. I want to help you. Now, you gonna help a centaur out or what?" The centaur looked up at him through lowered lashes.

Prince Samuel could think of no further objections and acquiesced. Through it all, as Sam himself was deflowered, he couldn't help but suspect that this was not the centaur's first experience. How could it be when it felt so good?

"Now, Sam!" the centaur said as he reached his peak. "If you want them, you have to take them now."

Prince Samuel took his pretty blade and sliced it clean through the centaur's tail. He didn't have the faculties remaining for finesse.

When it was over, Sam sat dishevelled and leaned heavily against a tree trunk. Dodge had disappeared sometime between Sam meeting the centaur and deflowering him. Sam was not looking forward to searching for his spirited steed, but was glad Dodge borne witness to their coupling.

"Thank you," Prince Samuel said once he'd regathered his breath.

"You're welcome," said the centaur with a rogue-like grin.

"Seriously," said Prince Samuel, clutching a fistful of tail hair. "Name what you want and I'll do everything I can to get it for you. You have no idea how much this means to me."

The centaur's smile softened into something more intimate. "I can guess," he said.

"Anything," Sam said.

"There is one thing," the centaur said.

Sam tensed, certain that the price would be difficult to fulfil. "I hope it's not my first born." Prince Samuel never intended to have one of those.

"No," said the centaur. "A blessing."

"You want me to give you a blessing?" Some of the more superstitious members of the kingdom had asked Sam for his blessing, but the centaur didn't seem the type. Without his violin and bow, Sam had no chance of giving the centaur any true blessing.

"No. I want you to accept my blessing."

Sam frowned. "I don't see how that's supposed to get me out of your debt."

"Perhaps it's because I am in yours," said the centaur. "Who would have thought amorous congress could be so... _satisfying_."

"I can't accept that," said Prince Samuel.

The centaur stepped forward and loomed over Prince Samuel. For the first time, the prince truly perceived the possibilities of magic within the centaur. "You can," said the centaur. "And you will."

Prince Samuel shut his mouth and nodded his agreement, never taking his eyes off the centaur.

"Excellent." The centaur smirked again, reached out and pressed the heel of his palm to the centre of Prince Samuel's forehead. He didn't speak, but Sam felt _something_. It was the faintest of  
flutters against the core of his being and disappeared as soon as it came.

"What was that?"

"Just a little something-something," the centaur winked. He started to walk away. "Ta ta for now, Prince Samuel."

"Wait!" Prince Samuel called. "What's your name?" He couldn't believe he'd neglected to learn the name of his paramour before they had lain together.

"They call me Gabriel," he said with a salute and a wink before disappearing into the forest.

Not a moment later, Prince Dean rode up to his brother, holding Dodge by the reins. "What the hell happened to you?"

Sam looked up at his brother with an aspect so aglow, the crown prince almost didn't recognise him. "I have no clue."

  
x x x

  
It took the better part of three days for Prince Samuel to complete his bow. He could feel the difference when it was finished, as though the wood and hair was suddenly imbued with a spark of something more. When Prince Samuel raised his bow and played a scale for the first time in the privacy of his bedchamber, coloured lights danced out of the instrument. As Prince Samuel began to play a long memorised tune, the colours sparked and multiplied, filling the room with more than just light.

Magic.

Prince Samuel smiled and it was two days before his brother convinced him to leave his room. Prince Samuel had people to see, after all. Being able to do magic didn't automatically make you the Minstrel. For that you needed the Minstrel's Guard's approval and the King's acknowledgement. Prince Samuel was a little worried about the latter, but if he could convince the Minstrel's Guard, they would be the ones who would need to convince his father.

  
x x x

  
The head of the Minstrel's Guard was a man named Chuck who didn't look like he could guard a rabbit, let alone Prince Samuel. These days, the Minstrel's Guard didn't need to do much guarding, but Sam didn't think Chuck looked particularly good at deterring false minstrels either. There must have been more to him than met the eye as never had Sam heard of a minstrel falsely proclaimed.

"Your highness!" Chuck greeted Prince Samuel as soon as he walked through the doors of the Guard's headquarters. He stood up from his desk and glanced around the room, unable to settle his gaze. "What-- To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'd like to audition."

"Audition?"

"For the Minstrel," said Sam.

"You-- You want to be the Minstrel?"

"More than that," said Prince Samuel. "I think I _am_ the Minstrel."

"Oh," said Chuck, backing away. "You know it's not just a matter of... declaring yourself, your highness."

"I know," said Prince Samuel. "That's why I'm here."

"And, you know, of course, that there hasn't been a Minstrel in eight hundred years. It's highly unlikely that you will be the Minstrel, given the thousands who have auditioned for us before you."

"Yes, yes. I might spend all my time in the castle, but I'm not completely out of touch." Prince Samuel began to grow uneasy. If this man didn't accept him as the Minstrel, his life would never be his own. He would have to bow to his father's demands, and in time, his brother's too. If he didn't succeed... Sam didn't have a back-up plan.

"I see you have the instrument," Chuck said, nodding at the case in Sam's hands.

Sam nodded.

"And of course you would have taken care of the matter of the blessing."

"Blessing?" Prince Samuel hadn't heard of that part of the process. Perhaps that was the true test of the Minstrel. If he didn't come with a blessing, he couldn't be the Minstrel. Sam's gut clenched. He was a failure before he'd even begun.

"The blessing of an elder god. The royal family is descended from the gods, of course, but the Minstrel always receives a blessing from a god himself. Or herself. Minstrels have been blessed by the full pantheon over the years."

"Well, I--" A _blessing_. "I've got that, too." That conniving centaur. Prince Samuel's blood boiled, but he reigned in his temper. It wouldn't do to frighten his guard. And now that Prince Samuel knew what the blessing meant, he was certain the Minstrel's Guard was now his.

"Oh," said Chuck, surprise written plainly on his face. "I've never-- No one's ever gotten that before. But of course you're the prince, so..."

"Shall I play?" Prince Samuel asked. He began removing his instrument from its case, lovingly tightening his bow and tuning the violin. Even untuned, Prince Samuel could feel the magic beginning to flow.

Chuck must have felt it, too, for he did not speak another word, his eyes fixed upon the instrument and the prince's agile fingers. His mouth opened as though to sing an accompaniment, but no words spilled forth.

When Prince Samuel finished playing, he and Chuck stood in a room transformed. Every nook and cranny was cleaned and straightened, vines and flowers decorated the ceiling beams and bare walls, and the air was as fresh as a sea breeze. Chuck seemed to stand taller, with clearer eyes and less sallow skin.

"The Minstrel!" Chuck declared. "The Minstrel!"

With his shout, the rest of the Guard assembled behind him, eyes wide and heads bowing.

"Eight hundred years," said Chuck, staring at Prince Samuel. "I never thought I'd live to see it."

Sam smiled at him. "Your service will be rewarded."

"We need to--" Chuck cut himself off as he began rummaging through his drawers. "There's a procedure for this. Rules to follow." He pulled out an old vellum scroll and unravelled it carefully. He muttered to himself as he read it. "We must process to the castle courtyard where you'll be acknowledged by the king. Kevin!" Chuck snapped at the youngest of his people. "Run ahead and make sure everyone knows." He threw the scroll at the terrified young man. Kevin dropped it. "Make sure everything goes to plan." Kevin scurried out of the room, then Chuck turned to Prince Samuel. "Play it again."

  
x x x

  
By the time the Minstrel's Guard had heard their fill, they were no longer a motley crew of peasants who could find no work elsewhere. They were an intimidating guard, alert to all the dangers one would no longer dare in their presence.

Prince Samuel walked surrounded by his guard, playing the violin as they trod the path to his home. All around them villagers cheered and whistled, joining in the dance as every step enlivened the town. Plants seemed greener. Animals seemed heartier. And every face was graced with a smile.

A crowd was waiting for them in the castle courtyard. Among them were Prince Dean, Princess Lisa and Prince Ben, all alight with wonder. As Sam struck the last note, his eye caught on one particular villager at the edge of the crowd standing on two legs. Sam lowered his bow and instrument, and strode toward the man, ignoring all calls for an encore.

"You!" Sam accused, pointing the man's own tail hairs at him. "I can't believe you. I'm so angry I could--" Prince Samuel spluttered.

"Could what? Kiss me?"

"Yes!" Prince Samuel found himself agreeing, stepping forward and curling his arms around Gabriel, kissing him with all his newly awakened strength. Sam couldn't use his hands the way he would have liked, but Gabriel made up for it, clinging to him like a limpet and winding his own hands beneath Prince Samuel's garments.

Sam was lost in the sensations of the kiss, of the man, the centaur, the elder god who'd given him everything he'd ever dreamed. He rutted against Gabriel, chasing his pleasure.

A familiar throat cleared behind Prince Samuel, effectively dousing his passion. Sam lowered his arms and stepped back from Gabriel, turning to face his father.

King John had a very put upon expression on his face. "You could have just told me you wanted to be the Minstrel, Sam," he groused, then addressed the crowd. "All right everyone, show's over. As you can see, this is Minstrel Sam. As always, he carries my blessing. Now go." With that pronouncement, King John turned and walked back toward the castle, quickly followed by Prince Dean and his family.

Sam watched them go, slack-jawed. "Did he just...?"

"The King loves you, yadda-yadda. Now shut up and kiss me." Gabriel pulled Minstrel Samuel's face down by the cheeks and picked up where he left off. Minstrel Samuel was quite happy to let him do that for the rest of his life.


End file.
